An intriguing and short novel on dealing with grief. Language, particularly the inability to use language when grieving is a powerful concept here. Additionally, how violence is a type of language itself is another thread to follow. Even the act of writing itself, as a outlet for grief, is questioned. The book conveys to me how fragmented language is and how insufficient the mechanisms for communicating across age, culture, class, and more are.

Dark an uninspiring...

A wondrous tribute to friendship, how it nourishes us, and how nothing can fill the void when a much cherished friend departs

I have a dog. Her name is Olive. She is sleeping at the foot of the bed as I write this. When I finished reading The Friend, my first instinct was to pick her up and hug her, but she was asleep and I did not want to disturb her. I love my dog, but now I love her even more. That is the effect this book has had on me.

And then you’ll know why writing an online review while giving it stars is a melancholy act.

👎